


Cake Tip Number 4

by Qzil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Birthday Cake, Cake decorating, Everybody Lives, F/M, Food Play, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 12:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5966695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qzil/pseuds/Qzil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg decides to make up a birthday for herself, and decorates Castiel like he’s her cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cake Tip Number 4

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msdoomandgloom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msdoomandgloom/gifts).



> All msdoomandgloom's fault, as per usual. Her and her need to remind me that piping gel is a thing that exists and I hate it.

Castiel squinted at the display in front of him, checked his shopping list again, and then looked back up at the row of cake tips. Meg had shoved him out of the house an hour ago with instructions to pick up a bunch of number four decorating tips, featherweight bags, star decorating tips, icing, and piping gel. Castiel had no idea what any of those things were, or why his demonic girlfriend needed them, but he had gone. 

Times like these were when he missed his wings. Being human wasn’t all bad, of course, but it was inconvenient to have to drive forty-five minutes away to simply ‘pick up a few things’ at Meg’s request every couple of days. True, she couldn’t leave the small cottage they were holed up in, not without risking Crowley finding her, so he was more than happy to bring her things to entertain herself. 

He just wished that she would tell him what they were for, instead of just shoving him out the door with a list. He knew that most of things on her list were used to decorate cakes or cupcakes, but he was fairly certain that they had no cake mix in the cottage. Meg wasn’t a baker, anyway, so he had no idea what she wanted them for. 

Still, he made his purchases and drove the forty-five minutes back to the cottage. He’d managed to put a small fence up, painted with wards meant to keep the place invisible to angels and demons alike, so that way Meg could at least access the yard. She was waiting for him by the very edge of the fence when he pulled up, tapping her foot on the ground. 

“Finally!” she said, pouncing on him the second he crossed the gate. “C’mon inside and get naked.”

“Not that I need a reason to get naked, but why?” Castiel asked slowly. Being cooped up in the house all day gave Meg plenty of times to think of new games for her and Castiel to try. Not that he didn’t enjoy most of them, because he did, but lately they’d gotten sort of out of hand thanks to her boredom. The last time Meg had request he get naked up on his return home, he’d wound up trussed up on the table with an apple in his mouth while Meg basted him like a turkey and talked about how she was going to eat him. 

She hadn’t actually eaten him, of course. He was human now, and therefore such things could kill him. But he could tell that she wanted to. 

Meg widened her eyes at him. “Don’t you trust me?”

“As much as I possibly can,” Castiel answered. Meg smiled and strolled into the house, beckoning him to follow. Castiel did, stopping in the middle of the cottage’s small kitchen to watch Meg strip out of her clothes. 

“You, too,” she instructed. 

“Are you baking a cake?” Castiel asked. 

“Sort of,” Meg answered. 

Castiel began stripping out of his clothes, making sure to carefully fold them and place them on a chair. “Then why do we have to be naked for it? Surely baking is safer if you wear clothing.”

Meg rolled her eyes and began to unpack the bags. “Not that kind of cake.” She grabbed an apron hanging off the hook on the wall and pulled it around her. Castiel finished undressing and reached for their other apron, only stopping when Meg slapped his hands away. 

“So only _I_ have to be naked for this?”

Meg nodded. “Yeah, you’re my cake.”

“What?”

She held up the icing. “I’m going to decorate you. It’ll be fun. I already put plastic down over the mattress and took all the pillows off and everything.”

Castiel stared at her for a moment and then took a slow step toward the bedroom. “I suppose I’ll just wait in there, then.”

Meg nodded. “I’ll be in as soon as I get everything in the proper bags.”

True to her word, Meg had stripped the bed and covered the mattress in some sort of plastic. Castiel slid onto the bed and stretched out on his back, hands behind his head for comfort. Less than five minutes later Meg strolled into the room, holding various bags of icing and piping gel on a tray, as well as a spatula. She’d pulled her dark hair back into a low ponytail and her hazel eyes were sparkling with mischief. She deposited it on the bedside table, left again, and returned with the packages of piping gel and icing balanced in her hands. 

“Ready to get all pretty, Clarence?” Meg teased. Castiel rolled his eyes, a habit that he’d picked up from her. He’d pointed that out to her once, and she’d just laughed. 

“I suppose,” he said. Meg grabbed the bag of white icing, moved onto the bed to straddle him, and began drawing squiggly lines that stretched from shoulder to shoulder. She dipped the bag down to move the design over his collarbones, and laughed when he shivered at the feeling. She swirled the white around a few times in some sort of design. He had no idea what she was making, and when he tried to tilt his head downward to look, Meg simply moved it back. 

“If you move you’ll mess it up,” she said, and Castiel could’ve sworn he saw an actual pout on her face for a second before she shook her head at him. “Stay still.”

Castiel obeyed, relaxing onto the bed as Meg continued to work. She hummed to herself when she did so, and when he chanced a glance downward he saw her bent low over his chest in concentration. The tip of her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth, and every now and then the end of her ponytail would come dangerously close to smearing her work. 

Eventually, Meg finished her work with the white icing and moved to grab another color off the tray. The soft sounds of the icing leaving the bag and her humming lulled Castiel until he felt himself getting drowsy, and he almost fell asleep under her touch, jerking awake when he felt her lightly scratch his thigh. 

“If you jerk awake you’ll mess up all my hard work,” Meg said. “I’m almost done, anyway. I just gotta write one more thing.”

Castiel tilted his head a little to see her grab the bag of black piping gel. Still straddling his waist, she sat up and quickly wrote something on  his chest, her movements easy and practiced, as though she decorated cakes every day and was used to handling icing bags. 

“Ta-da!” she said. Slipping off of him, she scampered out of the room on bare feet and returned with her cell phone. She stood on the bed to take a picture of him, carefully balancing on the slippery plastic sheet. Castiel appreciated the angle, because the little white apron she wore was mostly see-through.   
When she was finished, Meg flopped down next to him on the bed and held the phone out to show him what she’d done. 

Castiel couldn’t help laughing at it. Using icing, she’d drawn big, fluffly clouds and a few blue strings meant to represent the sky high on his chest. Using the green, she’d clumsily drawn squiggly lines down at his waist to represent grass. In the middle, she’d used the piping gel to draw a crude representation of herself killing Crowley, complete with messy, spurting blood done in bright red. 

She’d also written _Happy Birthday Meg!_ in the middle of his chest in her neat, loopy handwriting. 

“Very nice,” he complimented. “Is it your actual birthday, though?”

Meg waved her hand in dismissal. “No idea. Why don’t we just say it is?”

“If you like,” Castiel said casually. Meg gave him a predatory smile and moved to straddle his waist again. Only this time, she ground down against him, leaving no doubt in Castiel’s mind about what she wanted. 

“And you’re my cake, so I get to eat you up,” Meg whispered. She pressed her whole body flat against his and kissed him, running the artwork that she’d just plastered across his chest. When she pulled away and smiled, icing was smeared all down her apron in a multicolored mess. “Happy birthday to me.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “Happy birthday to you.”


End file.
